


Doing the Dishes

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Domesticity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:36:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for rounds_of_kink. The prompt was "Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day. ~ Simone De Beauvoir".</p><p>Set when House and Wilson were living at House's.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Doing the Dishes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for rounds_of_kink. The prompt was "Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its endless repetition: the clean becomes soiled, the soiled is made clean, over and over, day after day. ~ Simone De Beauvoir".
> 
> Set when House and Wilson were living at House's.

House dumped the dishes in the sink – another of Wilson’s culinary success stories – and eagerly started in the direction of the living room. The OC was on tonight.

However, an immovable force stopped him in his tracks. Wilson, hands on his hips and narrowed eyes. Figured!

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Aw, Jimmy… The OC is starting!” he whined, making his best puppy dog face – which, for some reason, never had any effect on anyone except Cameron, although lately it was a hard sell even to her.

Indeed, ‘Jimmy’ didn’t seem incline to let him pass. Instead, the heartless man rolled his eyes at his antics and pointed at the sink.

“You’re doing the dishes first. It’s your day.”

“I’ll do them later. Promise.”

Wilson snorted. And House was really starting to reconsider the whole prank war having been such a good idea, because last week Wilson would just have _done_ the dishes himself, not pestered him while there was good television on.

“Now.”

“Or what?” House asked challengingly, trying to figure out if he could make a run for it and tie himself to the couch before Wilson dragged him back in the kitchen and tied him to the sink. Kinky…

“Or I’m not telling you where I put the TV control.”

Wilson looked very pleased with himself and House felt a little pang in his chest he chose to ignore. It was good to see Wilson having some fun. In fact, House felt inordinarily proud of him.

But that wasn’t something he wanted to look too closely at – maybe because he had done just that a few times already since he had met Wilson, and never liked the results he had come up with.

So instead, he got his head back into the game and made his best hurt _‘how can you do this to me?’_ face. Wilson just raised an eyebrow at him.

After a few seconds of stand-off, House finally gave up the act and smirked.

“Nice, Jimmy,” he said, drawling out the words.

Wilson smiled back, beaming, and House couldn’t stop the genuine smile from breaking on his face.

He knew he was beaten but he didn’t really care anymore. With a last longing look in the general direction of the TV, he headed for the sink and started running some hot water.

Meanwhile, Wilson took a seat at the table and showed no intention to leave. No, he was definitely seeing this one through.

“You’re just going to sit here and watch?” House asked.

“You like it.”

Wilson’s voice was soft and a little teasing, and House had to resist the urge to turn around to look at him. It was true enough. He would take Wilson over any audience any day, but he had thought he had kept that part a secret. He wouldn’t want to appear needy after all, especially to Wilson – the last thing he wanted was Wilson to stick around because he thought House needed him.

Well, time to make a diversion.

Casually he filled a glass, then turned and threw the water at his friend.

Water fight. Almost worth missing The OC.

Wilson got up with a clang, his chair hitting the fridge as he wiped water from his eyes.

“House!” he sputtered, but he didn’t sound angry, just surprised and that was good as far as House was concerned.

So he did it again, and again, until Wilson was very wet, hair and shirt clinging to his skin, and they were both laughing. 

At some point, Wilson tried to get ammunition to retaliate because House had the monopoly of the sink – and of the water – but the floor was slippery, and he just ended up flat on his back. He did manage to take House down with him though and soon they were both giggling madly on the floor – or rather, Wilson was, because Gregory House certainly did _not_ giggle –, making no effort to get up.

Then Wilson kissed him, and there seemed to be no point in denying he wanted it, wanted _Wilson_ , wanted Wilson to stay here with him and never leave. So he kissed him back, and it was everything he had ever thought it would be – not that he had thought about it a lot, mind you, he wasn’t some pathetic, romantic fool.

When they pulled apart, they were still lying on the wet soapy floor, his leg was hurting some, and Wilson was smiling.

“You’re going to miss The OC.” He said, eyes twinkling and offering House a hand, which, for once, he had no trouble accepting.

“It’s just re-runs anyway.”

When they were both on their feet, he kissed Wilson again, and bedroom now. However, Wilson had other ideas.

“By the way, you’re going to have to clean up this mess.”

House glared at him and Wilson laughed, dancing out of his cane’s reach.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal.


End file.
